


Play God

by WonderAvian



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian
Summary: There aren't many things John can't do.Originally posted on tumblr late 2016/early 2017.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Play God

There aren’t many things John can’t do.

He’s a man of science. He’s smart, diligent, experienced and, when it comes to it, down to Earth, even though he is in space more often than not.

As an astronaut, he always needs to be aware of what is going on around him. So, John has developed a sense of perpetual awareness. He is constantly in motion and excels at multitasking, as per the job of being International Rescue’s space monitor demands. His interest in all things space helps too.

He listens, all the time. He talks to the stricken disaster victims that call for their help, offering words of comfort and encouragement. _It’s alright, listen to me, you’re going to be fine._

_You’re not going to die._

He has to reassure them that they are not going to die. He’s gotten damn good at it too.

Outside of IR he is, however, generally awkward around other people. It’s a lot harder to hold a conversation with strangers without 150,000 miles and a load of screens between them. It hits John, every time he is on Earth just how _real_ people are, and that holograms can be no real substitute for the living thing.

People know him down here. Know him for his voice, his college lectures, his books and autobiographies on the wonders of space. They congratulate him, shower him with praise. And John, being the nervous, isolated space critter that he is, stutters –actually stutters – and blushes slightly, bowing his head in embarrassment. He’s not exactly used to being complimented outside of work or family.

How do you deal with people when they’re happy, and not crying out for help that may never come?

Because that is just the thing, isn’t it. John has never been good expressing his emotions. Facts and figures, oh yes, he can talk about those just fine, because he knows those to be certain. His feelings, on the other hand (and those of others) often confuse him, leaving him wondering why humans can be so difficult sometimes.

But he’d try. He’d try to get better. He’d make a feeble conversation, and he could pass for an actually human being instead of a _thing_ from outer space, fumbling over his words as he tried to smile convincingly.

And then there will be the times they fail. The times where, no matter what they did or tried to do, the people that they were trying to save would die. Whether it be from an unforeseen error on John’s part – and which he will ever loathe himself for – or that the ‘Birds just could not get there in time, it would always leave a nasty imprint behind, the stench of failure, and a bad taste in their mouths.

John would have to listen to the voices of those condemned to die, hear their cries of relief turn to utter terror.

He felt terrible. There were times when he chose who had to live and who had to die. In other words…

He played God.

_“Someone help me! Someone please help me!”_

I’m sorry, sir, but that’s just not possible. Your time is up.

_“Don’t panic, sir, we have someone right after you. Just hold on tight.”_

_“Oh, thank you, International Rescue!”_

Thunderbird Five’s sensors could sense the man had a phone on him. He really should have called his family, to tell them goodbye.

Why hadn’t John told him to do that?

_“The, the building is shaking! H, help me, someone!”_

_“Keep your hold as long as you can. It’s just a minor disturbance.”_

The poor man was stuttering, and John kept his voice calming, neutral the whole time. The entire building was shaking, going to crumble to his knees any second, and John told the man it was a minor disturbance? What was he thinking? He wanted to tell the man what was actually going through his mind: that the tectonic plates are moving again, do you have any idea how small that building is compared to what’s under the ground? There are forces involved that we can’t combat.

_“Oh my god!”_

Protocol demands John keep the victims calm as possible until help arrives. Except, help did not arrive for this man.

The crashing of concrete, the shattering of glass, the screams of a dying man. Scott jumps in, apologising immediately, saying that he couldn’t get there in time, as he had been taking care of evacuating the children.

Children that John had told Scott to evacuate first.

_“Its okay, Scott. You couldn’t have done anything. Take care of the children.”_

An audible sigh on the radio.

_“FAB, John.”_

Up in Thunderbird Five, John floats weightlessly, his mind full of static.

That man had been alive. A living, breathing, human being. Gone in an instant.

Gone because John had made the decision that he would not come first. There had been children outside.

John knew the man had only twenty minutes, and John knew that Scott would get there in twenty-three. Sometimes John thinks he knows too much.

There aren’t many things John can’t do. He usually finds a way to either learn or to cope with the few things he finds difficult.

Socialising is one of them.

Listening to the dying screams of those they failed to save isn’t.

Having to decide who gets to live and has do die is. But dealing with it? That’s another story.

It’s something he can’t do.


End file.
